


As Long As I Say Love

by Buhneebaby



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Blood, Blow Jobs, Choking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Regret, Size Difference, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buhneebaby/pseuds/Buhneebaby
Summary: Chrollo finds more than he bargained for at an auction.
Relationships: Feitan/Phinks (Hunter X Hunter), Feitan/Phinx
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> There is something like an eight year age difference between Feitan and Phinks in this one.  
> Nothing explicit will happen until Fei's older though. Just tons of fluff and awkward sexual tension.  
> I'll update the tags as needed.
> 
> I don't have a beta, so please excuse any mistakes. ♡

Chrollo had been to his fair share of sketchy auction houses and this one was no exception. Slender butlers offered him flutes of champagne as he weaved his way through the crowd, but he refused each one, having always been skeptical of freely offered food.

He was blessed with a blank canvas of a body and a clean slate of a personality. He could become anyone, anything he desired. Looking at him now, dressed as he was in a perfectly fitted black ensemble, high-necked undershirt with lace around the cuffs and buttery black leather gloves, he appeared every bit the glamorous gentleman. With the black silk bandana tied across his forehead, no one would ever have mistaken him for _the_ Chrollo Lucilfer, infamous leader of the class-a bounty carrying Phantom Troupe. With his kind eyes and charming smile, no one even batted an eye of suspicion at him.

Not that these people he found himself mingling with were saints themselves. That became grossly obvious when he entered a room where the items being sold were actual _people_. As often as he had perused auction houses in the past, this was actually a first for him. Generally, the people being sold were broken down into individual body parts already, and whatever specimens floating in glass jars were long dead and preserved. But these were very much alive.

He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the numerous pedestals displaying bound, kneeling individuals of various age, sex, and color. Most of them were young girls dressed in silky dresses that left very little to the imagination, but there were a few older women and even one or two men.

“Pardon me, sir, and please excuse my ignorance on the subject, but… what are they being sold for, exactly? Work? Sex? Spare parts?” he asked conversationally to a burly man near the entrance who seemed to have some sort of authority. He was wearing a lanyard and carrying a walkie talkie on one hip and a gun on the other so Chrollo could only imagine he was hired help here.

The guard bellowed a laugh and said, “Anything you like, sir! Some good quality pieces on display here tonight. What’s your fancy, then?”

“What, indeed?” Chrollo smiled thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “I suppose what I fancy most of all is a good challenge. Might you have any idea where I can find one of those in this place?”

“A challenge, you say? As a matter of fact, I do. A mute was dropped off just this morning by his mother. Lowliest thing you ever did see, just a scrap of a girl and blubbering everywhere over this little demon. Bastard took out _four_ of our best guards before we got him pumped full of enough drugs to kill an elephant. He’s over in the corner there, got a real cheap tag on him. Not sure what good he’d be, but if a challenge is what you’re after, that’s your best bet.”

“Sold by his own mother?” Chrollo’s vibrant smile dimmed the slightest bit at the thought. How unsavory. How positively unmaternal.

“Must’ve really needed the money, I’m guessing.”

“Hmm.” Chrollo was frowning now. “Thank you for the tip, my good sir. If you’ll excuse me.” He bowed to the man and made his way in the direction where this _demon_ was meant to be.

“Did you hear? He’s a murderer!” a skinny brunette in a floor-length gown whispered loudly to her male companion. “No fool would buy such an unsightly creature, even at that price,” the man replied to her. A short fat man wearing a tuxedo and a bowtie was eyeing the boy up and down with interest though, and said, “Even so, the price is something to be considered. Even if he was nothing more than a fuck toy.”

Chrollo approached the group and looked at the information card and betting slips next to the boy’s bound feet.

_Teenaged boy_  
_Mute & wild_  
_200m obo_

“200 million jenny for a fuck toy?” he mused aloud. Somewhere behind him, one of the girls on display screamed and there was a ringing _slap_. Crying. Chrollo ignored it and tilted his head at the small boy tied up so tightly, so thoroughly, there was no doubt the blood was not properly circulating. _Whoever tied him had skill, though_ , he thought, unable to ignore the way the slender arms were pulled taut behind his back, rope binding from the wrists all the way up to nearly the shoulders. His head was bowed, chin resting on his chest. _Is he even conscious_?

Removing one of his gloves, Chrollo cupped the boy’s small pale face in his hand and tilted his chin gently up. The facial features were so unique, he had to be a foreigner. A sharp chin and a dainty nose that turned up in a point, chubby baby cheeks that gave away his young age. _‘Teenager’ might be pushing it a bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was barely ten years old_. The eyes were moving beneath the thin, purple-tinged lids and slowly, slowly peeked open. Heavy, drugged, dazed gray eyes rolled upward, then to the right, before finally settling on Chrollo’s face.

“Hello, darling,” Chrollo said softly to the child, steadily holding his gaze, drinking in the swirling storm clouds trapped inside those eyes. They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, it was intimate, it was warm, and Chrollo felt a familiar tug at his heart crying out _I want this I want this I want this_.

The fat bowtied man was glaring daggers at him. “My apologies, sir,” he said with a smile, running his thumb along the boy’s pouty bottom lip. “I think I’ll have this one.”

“You’ll have to outbid me for him, then!”

But Chrollo already had a pen in hand and wrote in his elegant script on the betting slip: _500m_.

The fat man looked at the card and spluttered. “You’re crazy! No way the brat is worth anywhere near that amount!”

“I suppose the worth of an item is subjective to the one doing the buying, wouldn’t you say? Hmm, something something eye of the beholder, you know the old saying.” Chrollo leaned close, pressing his lips against the shell of the boy’s ear, and whispered, “Do not despair, little one. You’ll have a new family soon and your pain will be over.”

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The reason he had come to the auction in the first place was for a mourning locket he had fallen in love with upon seeing it in the catalog. It was pure gold and contained a tiny hand-painted portrait of a beautiful young girl, along with one of her blonde curls wrapped around a pearly white canine tooth. It was grisly. It was macabre. It was absolutely perfect for his collection, and after betting a considerable amount of money, he was confident that it would be his at the end of the night.

His purchases were delivered to his car packaged prettily. The boy was bound even more thoroughly than before and sound asleep, draped in a black cloak. Chrollo inspected him and then asked of the guard who had carefully placed him into the passenger seat and was turning to leave, “Why is he asleep again?”

The man spun back around, looking startled. “For everyone’s protection, sir. He is quite dangerous. I’m sure you were warned before placing your bid?”

Chrollo removed a vicious looking jagged-edged knife from an interior pocket of his coat and carefully began cutting through the ropes binding the child. “Yes, I was. Thank you for taking such care wrapping my items.” His words said one thing, but he was obviously annoyed at having to cut through all this rope that he felt was entirely unnecessary. There was not much in the world he could not protect himself against, and a five feet nothing little boy was the least of his concerns as far as his own personal safety went.

When he had the boy free of bindings and ensured the circulation was fine in the slender arms, he securely buckled his seatbelt and made a phone call.

“So,” he began, smile evident in his voice, “I may have bought something tonight that could cause some problems.”

“Is it another dog? Because Boss, we just can’t afford-”

“It’s not a dog,” he interrupted, shifting the car into drive and pulling out onto the main road leading back to his gang’s hideout.

“Well, are you gonna say what it is?” The man on the other line sounded nervous and exasperated.

“Promise not to be mad.”

“Just tell me, already!”

“It’s a kid.”

Silence.

Chrollo gave a sideways glance to the boy in the passenger seat. He was so tiny, wrapped in the giant cloak, head hanging limply to the side as he slept.

“A kid,” came the voice from the speakerphone again.

“There’s something special about him, Nobu. I can feel it. I ended up in this room by accident, where they were selling _people_ , can you believe that? And he was in the corner getting sized up by a disgusting fat pig who was talking about using him as a cheap sex toy. I couldn’t… I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stand to have that happen to him. Apparently, he was dropped off by his mother to be sold and he killed four of their guards, so they wanted to be rid of him fast.”

“Wait, you’re telling me a _kid_ killed four guards?”

“You should see how they had him tied up, like he’s the hardest criminal you’ve ever seen. Even now, they wouldn’t even give him to me without pumping him full of drugs.”

“So what, he’s asleep right now?”

“Yes, I untied him and he’s sleeping next to me.”

Nobunaga spluttered on the other end of the line. “You _untied_ him? Don’t you think you should have waited till you got here so we could help in case… well, just in case?”

Chrollo frowned slightly. “I’m not concerned about it. What I need you to do is prepare a place for him. I considered keeping him with me, but I don’t want him to get too attached. So we’ll have him share a room with Phinks for the time being, until further arrangements can be made.”

“Phinks?” Nobunaga laughed. “Hey Phinks, you’re about to get a new roommate!”

“Make sure everything is prepared by the time we arrive. We’re on our way now.” Chrollo didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. He glanced at the boy again and was shocked to find the gray eyes open, but nothing else had changed. Chrollo pretended not to notice and turned on some calming classical music to settle both their nerves.

It took nearly an hour to reach the hideout, and Chrollo felt glad that it was actually someplace nice this time. He and his group traveled a lot and not every resting place was a luxury suite, unfortunately. But this one was a large, abandoned Victorian-style house. It was quite old and in need of some repairs, but it had electricity and running water, and really, what more could anyone ask for of a house? There weren’t enough bedrooms for everyone to have their own, so the girls, Machi and Pakunoda, shared a room. Nobunaga shared a room with Uvogin, and Franklin and Phinks shared another room. The house was rather empty at the moment, though, as Machi, Franklin, and Uvogin were away on a mission. _It’s probably better that way… Too many strangers may spook the poor kid_.

Chrollo pulled into the side driveway and shut the engine off. He got out and walked around to the passenger side door. He considered calling out one of his companions but decided against it when his gaze fell on the boy who had his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Darling,” he cooed, reaching over to unbuckle the seatbelt, “we’re home. Open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

He had been unsure up to that point whether or not the boy spoke the same language. He was obviously from elsewhere, so it wouldn’t have been such a great surprise. But the other’s eyes slipped open.

“There you are.” Chrollo smiled warmly at him. “Everyone’s very excited to meet you. Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.”

The moment of truth had arrived. Would he run? Would he fight? Chrollo’s blood sang with excitement as the tiny boy climbed out of the car and swayed on unsteady legs, still feeling the effects of the drugs in his system. He took a small step forward, then looked at Chrollo and reached out a tiny hand to grasp his.

Chrollo allowed the touch and pulled the boy gently to his side into a light embrace. He met no resistance and celebrated inwardly at the small victory.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. My spiders are all exceptionally well-behaved, for the most part,” he was saying as he led the boy up the stone path toward the front of the house.

They were met at the door by Pakunoda, a tall slender woman with pointed features and kind eyes. She offered Chrollo a small smile and a nod. “Welcome back, Boss,” her voice tinkled prettily. The little boy was looking up at her with wide eyes. “And hello to you, sweetheart. Welcome to your new home.” She placed a hand affectionately on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then stepped aside so the two could come inside.

The place was rather quiet with nearly half the members missing, and Chrollo was glad for it. Phinks and Nobunaga were sitting at the kitchen table playing a game of cards. They both looked up with varying degrees of shock and horror on their faces.

“I trust the preparations we discussed have been made?” Chrollo asked Nobunaga.

“Of course, Boss. Franklin’s mattress might be a little big for him, but uh, well we freshened up the sheets and I brought a couple board games in there. I don’t really have much experience with kids, but I think it’s fine?”

“Board games, really?” Pakunoda asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well then you do something, maternal instincts! I don’t have those kinds of feelings.”

“Who doesn’t like Hungry Hungry Hippos, though?” asked Phinks from where he still sat at the table, his eyes trained on the new kid.

“What’s his name, anyway?” asked Nobunaga.

Chrollo looked down at the boy. “I don’t know. He’s mute, so I haven’t asked.”

“I’m not mute,” came the soft voice as the boy tipped his head up to look petulantly at Chrollo. “Or deaf. My name is Feitan.”

Chrollo laughed and clapped his hands in glee. “Wonderful! What a special surprise! Come sit at the table and let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”

Pakunoda was already getting to work preparing some noodles.

“Allow me to formally introduce you to your new family, then. We might as well get it out of the way right now: we are a group of thieves. We have done terrible things, but judging by what I was told when I bet on you this evening, you will fit in very well here, won’t you?” He gave the boy a knowing wink before continuing. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, so don’t feel bad. Survival is the single most important thing in life, and sometimes morally questionable things must be done to ensure it.”

“He took out four guards,” Nobunaga was whispering loudly to Phinks, but he quickly grew silent at the stern look Chrollo shot his way.

“We are known to the world as the Phantom Troupe, and we are… well known, unfortunately. We have class-a bounties, as a matter of fact. But it’s nothing to be too concerned with. In fact, don’t think about that. All you need to know is that you are now a member of the spider, one of my precious legs necessary for the survival of the whole.”

Feitan was staring at him with rapt attention. The eye contact would have been too intense for most anyone else, but Chrollo didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it gave him a strong feeling of connection to the boy.

“My name is Chrollo and I started this group when I was only a child. Younger even than you. We all were on our own in Meteor City until we found each other. And we’ve been together ever since. All I will ever ask of you is that you trust me, and I know it will take time to earn that trust. But my companions know above all that I only have the best interest of the spider’s survival in mind, and that includes you now. _Your_ survival is my top priority, do you understand?”

Feitan gave a small nod of his head.

“Pakunoda is my gatherer of information. We plan large heists on occasion, more often than not incredibly dangerous, and she is one of my most important weapons in ensuring we are successful. Everything we have, we steal. Anything you want, you can have. Always remember that. All you have to do is reach out and take it.”

“Nobunaga and Phinks are fighters. They are considered frontline combatants. Strong and fearless.” Chrollo smiled to see the two men blushing and looking away bashfully, uncomfortable with the sudden praise from their leader.

“We also have several members currently away on a mission. Machi is my healer, and soon you will also meet Uvogin and Franklin, who are frontline fighters, as well.”

“And what role will I play?” Feitan asked.

“Well, that’s yet to be determined, now isn’t it? You’ll first take some time to get settled in. We’ll strengthen you up, get you healthy because right now you’re just skin and bones. Then I’ll teach you how to fight properly, of course, and we’ll see what your affinity is toward. Right now, don’t even think about it. You’ve been through a lot and you deserve to have some fun, right?”

“Fun.” Feitan frowned at the word.

“You know what’s fun?” Phinks asked in a too-loud voice. “Hungry Hungry Hippos! Right?”

\-----

The first night passed as painlessly as any of them could have hoped for. Somehow Phinks had been left in charge of the kid, and to say he was clueless was an understatement. The big blond brute watched helplessly as Chrollo retired to his bedroom for the evening with a wave, wishing everyone a good night. Pakunoda had gone to sleep several hours earlier, and Nobunaga was snoring on the couch.

Feitan was sitting at the kitchen table with a deep frown on his face.

“Hey, don’t look so sad,” Phinks tried with a nervous smile. “You wanna go get washed up? Then we can check out the bedroom situation. I can see about finding us a bunk bed if you’re into that kind of thing. I’ve always wanted one, but you know… it was kinda hard to get anybody else on board with it haha.”

“Where is the bathroom?” asked Feitan, getting to his feet.

“It’s over here, right down the hall from our bedroom, which is so nice. You don’t understand, man, the last place we were living didn’t have a bathroom at all. You had to go outside. And Uvogin forgot to bring the toilet paper back inside one day and it rained, and it all got ruined. That was like 200 jenny for that toilet paper, too, it was the premium stuff. Anyway,” he opened the door and turned on the light, “here’s the bathroom! K, I’ll leave you to it-”

“Stay.”

Phinks shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “What do you mean stay? It’s… it’s a bathroom. I can’t stay.”

Feitan raised his eyes and Phinks visibly cringed at that sad little face. “I don’t want to be alone,” he said quietly.

“Oh-oh… okay, okay, it’s no big deal, right? Haha, no worries, I’ll uh, I’ll just sit over here on the sink, okay?” Phinks came in and shut the door behind him, then hopped on the sink and stared at the ceiling while Feitan undressed.

“So uh, what’s your story, kid? How’d you end up at an auction house?”

Feitan was too busy climbing into the bathtub to answer immediately. He was so small that he could submerge his entire body comfortably, and glancing down for a moment once he was covered in bubbles, Phinks felt slightly jealous that he had grown way too big to enjoy such simple luxuries.

“My mother couldn’t afford to keep me. I was a burden to her.”

“So she… she left you there?”

“Yes. She sold me.”

Phinks rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and coughed. “That’s… wow, that is, that is really not cool.”

“Are you really a murderer, Phinks?” Feitan was looking at him curiously, chin propped on the edge of the tub.

“What? Why do you ask that?”

“You just seem… different.”

Unsure how to reply, Phinks shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, well yeah. All the spiders are. It’s just what we do. I don’t really feel like it makes us bad people, though, you know what I mean? I mean, let’s use Boss as an example. He’s killed _so many people_. You’d lose your mind if you ever saw him fight. He’s better than all of us combined probably. But anyway, if that’s all you knew about him, you’d think he was a bad guy, right?” Not waiting for a reply, he continued, “Of course you would. But let me tell you this right now: Chrollo is the greatest guy I’ve ever known. He’s fair, he’s selfless, and he cares about stuff. Hell, look how much he cares about you, and he doesn’t know anything about you.”

“But why?” whispered Feitan.

“I don’t know. He thinks different than us, I guess. Feels stuff on a different level, or something. He said he felt something special about you and that’s why he decided to bring you here.”

“There’s nothing special about me.” Feitan sunk down into the water. “Will you wash my hair?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“Why not? I won’t hurt you.”

Phinks let out a loud laugh at that. “You? I don’t think…” but he saw how Feitan’s eyes flashed angrily and he cleared his throat, stifling down his laughter. “Okay, sure, kid. I’ll wash your hair. And look, I don’t think you’re dangerous, okay? Just so you know. I heard what you did and I don’t care. I’m just not great with kids. Never been around any before, so don’t take it personal.” He looked through the various bottles under the sink, squinting to read the small print. It was definitely a perk of sharing a bathroom with the girls: full access to all their fancy bath stuff.

After finding what he thought was a matching pair of shampoo and conditioner, he came to kneel next to the tub. Feitan was blowing bubbles in the water.

“Okay, come here. Let’s get down to business.” Phinks cracked his knuckles and squirted some shampoo into his hands, way way too much. He reached down and started lathering the long, greasy black hair.

Feitan giggled a little and the sound made Phinks grin. “What’s funny, squirt?”

“You’re just so big! It’s like a giant washing my hair.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re just really, really small, huh? I’d say I’m pretty average-sized.”

“Hmm… no. I don’t think so,” Feitan replied with a long sigh. Phinks had started using his fingernails to gently scrub at the boy’s scalp, and he could feel the tension slowly seeping out of the little body. His hands, still slick with soap, moved down to his neck and began working the muscles there.

Feitan was making quiet cooing noises, his head lolling from side to side with the movement of Phinks’ hands.

“I could fall asleep,” the boy whispered, resting his head heavily against Phinks’ arms.

“Well, don’t. Let’s get you rinsed off and we’ll go to bed, okay?” He helped Feitan stand and rinsed him off, the earlier awkwardness gone. _Maybe I do have fatherly instincts_ , he thought, grinning to himself as he toweled the boy dry. Feitan seemed much happier being attended to, _the spoiled little brat_. But Phinks couldn’t fault him too much for it. Who knew what kind of life the poor kid had endured? A little bit of pampering might do him some good.

“We don’t have a toothbrush for you yet, so just brush with your finger okay? Here’s some toothpaste.”

Feitan stuck out his index finger for Phinks to glob some toothpaste onto it. They brushed their teeth together and it was at that exact moment that Phinks realized he didn’t have any clean clothes for the kid to change into.

“So just keep the towel on for a minute, okay? I’ve got to find you something to wear.”

Feitan wandered out into the hallway, bare feet slap slap slapping on the wood floor as he followed Phinks to the bedroom they’d be sharing.

Phinks had dumped over a laundry basket and was rifling through it. Nothing would do. “So uh… look, I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to wear one of my shirts haha, it’s gonna look like a dress on you. Oh man, I’m sorry, kid.”

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t care.”

“Pfft. Why would I care? You’re the one wearing the dress.”

Feitan smiled, blushing a little, and took the tank top from Phinks’ hands. It really was huge on him. And it really did hang like a poorly tailored dress, the arm holes hanging open down his sides and the bottom hem hitting mid-thigh.

“Okay, so maybe that isn’t working like uh, like I thought it would,” Phinks muttered, disturbed that so much of the kid’s body was still showing. There’s no way they could eat breakfast the next morning at the table with everyone with him dressed that way. So he grabbed one of his tracksuit jackets and wrapped it around the boy, zipping it up. It was even bigger, but at least he was fully covered now.

Feitan stood in between the two beds looking ridiculous while Phinks fluffed the pillows and blankets.

“Okay, are you good? You ready to go to sleep, or…? Do I have to read you a story, or something?”

“No. I don’t need a story. I’m not a baby, you know.” Feitan was pouting a little.

“Oh yeah, are you sure? I see that lip. Don’t you lie to me!”

“I’m twelve!”

Phinks stopped everything and turned to stare at his new roommate. “Twelve? Bullshit. How old are you, really?”

Feitan scowled at him.

“Holy shit, are you really? Oh man, hahaha. Sorry! I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” He took a few deep breaths, but it was actually really really funny to him. “Twelve, though, really?”

“Shut up! How old did you think I was?”

Phinks was holding his breath, trying to get control of himself before he really hurt the boy’s feelings.

“Tell me!”

“I don’t know!” he blurted. “Like eight? Anyway, anyway, okay, so no story for you. You’re practically a grown man anyway. Get in the bed, go to sleep.”

Feitan climbed onto the huge mattress and Phinks was struck again with just how tiny he was. He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, refusing to laugh anymore about it.

He turned the light off and settled onto his own mattress with a sigh. It had been a long day and he was really feeling it. It felt weird having to share the room with someone again. Franklin had been gone for a few days now and it was really nice having some peace and quiet… well, while it had lasted. He was still a little concerned about the new kid. He seemed fine so far, but people had a way of surprising you with interesting little quirks once you got to know them better.

When his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he glanced down to the other bed, trying to find the lump that should have been Feitan. He wasn’t there.

Phinks shot up in bed, suddenly wide awake again.

“Feitan? Where are you?”

“Can I sleep with you?” came a quiet voice from the opposite side of him.

Phinks made a terrified squawking sound and nearly fell off the bed. “How the fuck did you get over there? What are you doing, huh?” He was shouting, angry from the momentary fright. But mostly from the fear of possibly losing the kid so fast. Chrollo would kill him.

Feitan sucked in a breath, eyes filling with tears. Phinks raked a hand down his face and sighed, grabbing the boy’s arms and pulling him close. “Shh, hey hush, okay? Don’t cry. You’re grown, remember? Suck it up, it’s fine.” He sighed again when he felt Feitan press his face into his chest, snotty nose rubbing on his clean undershirt.

“Okay, that’s enough crying. Come on, everything’s fine. Let’s go to sleep.” Keeping his grip on the boy, he stretched out and rolled over on his side, tucking Feitan down against his chest and holding him tight. He felt terrible for scaring him, like a fucking monster. He was not used to this babysitting thing.

After some time had passed, the sniffles had tapered off into soft, even breathing. "Hey," he whispered, "are you asleep?"

"Hmm," Feitan sighed, squishing his face against Phinks' chest.

“Is this… okay?”

Feitan cracked one eye open. “Is what okay?”

“I don’t know! Are you comfortable?”

Feitan wiggled down a little bit, then turned over so his back was pressed close to Phinks. They fit together… pretty well, actually.

“Am now.”

Phinks rested his chin on top of the boy’s head and cuddled close to him, enjoying the warmth. He hadn’t shared his bed with someone in a while, and even though this was entirely platonic, he enjoyed the closeness of another person. And Feitan just so happened to be the perfect size for cuddling, fitting perfectly against his torso.

Meanwhile, buried in Phinks’ arms, Feitan was blushing, his eyes wide open.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of weird and bad feelings in this chapter.  
> Lots of confusion and pretty iffy consent on both sides.  
> Some torture, some choking... so maybe tread lightly if you're concerned about that sort of content.

It happened very gradually over the course of several years. Tiny little things that alone could be explained and excused, shrugged off, tucked away into the corner of the mind where it wouldn’t do anyone any harm. But it happened nonetheless.

And, as he usually was, Phinks was caught entirely off guard.

Because he was used to Feitan by now. All his little quirks and moods. Being around him was very much like being around a cat: moments of extreme affection, draped over your lap, snuggled to your side, wrapped around your hand, followed immediately by angry biting and Feitan spending the rest of the night perched on the windowsill.

Phinks was an orphan and had never known any sort of family other than Chrollo and the group, but the friendship he and Feitan had developed was somehow a little bit more than that. He felt more like a real brother to him than any of the others. Maybe because he was so small and so affectionate toward him was the reason, Phinks couldn’t say for sure, but he found himself very attached.

Attached enough to excuse a lot of otherwise inexcusable actions. Attached enough to turn a blind eye when Feitan’s true nature started making itself known.

Feitan was a killer, and not in the same sense that the rest of the troupe was: he took real sadistic pleasure in the act itself. Murder to him was not the necessary evil required to ultimately reach an end goal. Murder to him was the _only goal_. And he didn’t do it fast and efficient like Phinks did. He drew it out, prolonged it for as long as possible, and then pouted once the person was dead and his ‘fun’ was over.

Was it a little concerning? Sure. But he looked so freaking adorable in that little butcher’s apron, with those elbow-length gloves. Phinks could only laugh about it in the moment, but sometimes… when they had gone to bed and he could tell Feitan was still awake, he couldn’t help but feel an annoying little twinge of anxiety. The nagging thought of _could he actually hurt me if he really wanted to_? Phinks was pretty sure the answer was no. The only advantage Feitan had over him was speed, and at the end of the day, he was pretty sure it wouldn't be enough to take him out. But what about if the element of surprise was involved?

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” Feitan muttered, pressing his ear to Phinks’ chest.

Even though Phinks had known the other was awake, he was still startled by his voice. Ever since the very first night they’d spent together, Feitan had insisted on sharing the same bed with him. It had seemed strange to him at the time, but after a while he’d grown used to it and it was just another thing he found himself accepting about Feitan. The only way it really could have been a problem was if he’d gotten any bigger, but honestly Feitan hadn’t grown more than an inch in the years since he’d joined the troupe, and at this point Phinks saw him more as a body pillow when they slept together. Sleep usually came to him very quickly and easily, but for some reason tonight, he couldn’t seem to find it. And then he’d fallen down the rabbit hole of strange thoughts.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said, voice low.

“I was awake. Answer the question.”

Phinks scowled. That was another thing: Feitan was always so blunt. There was no beating around the bush where he was concerned.

“I don’t know, man, just weird stupid stuff. Nothing important.”

Feitan pulled back, wiggling out of Phinks’ arms, then climbed up until his head was on the pillow and his face was directly in front of Phinks’ face. He squinted at him in the dark.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s nothing! What’s the big deal?”

“Was it about me?”

Phinks scoffed. “What? Why would I be thinking about you?”

“Then why won’t you tell me!” A tantrum was on the way. Phinks could sense it.

“Okay fine, yeah. It was about you.”

He felt Feitan scooch closer til he was pressed against him again. He thought about wrapping his arms around him and trying to go to sleep, but Feitan was still very close to his face and it was making it hard to relax. Even in the dark, he could feel the weight of that heavy gaze. Could feel the hot little puffs of his breath against his mouth. That nervousness was starting to creep back up the base of his spine, to tickle the hairs on the back of his neck. He shivered.

“What were you thinking about?” whispered Feitan, so close that Phinks could feel his lips moving.

Phinks pulled back a little, laughing anxiously. “What are you trying to do, kiss me?”

Feitan didn’t answer.

“Er… really, it was nothing serious. I was just thinking about how it would go if we ever fought each other. Who would win.”

There was a silence so stark and vast that Phinks could imagine his words hanging there awkwardly in the air between them. Then Feitan said, “Oh.” Did he sound disappointed?

Frowning, Phinks decided this was a really weird conversation and that it should probably end now. “Yeah, so… look, it’s late and we should be sleeping, so go to sleep.”

He could feel Feitan nod his head and slip back down to his typical spot, cuddled close with his back to Phinks and wrapped snug in both his strong arms.

 _That was all kinda weird_ , was the last thought Phinks had before finally falling asleep, having swept his friend’s odd behavior under the rug yet again.

So the killing thing was definitely high on Phinks’ list of concerns about his friend, number one bullet point on the presentation he was preparing to bring to Chrollo eventually. Second to that, though, was the manipulation. When he mentioned it to Machi one evening, she had basically shrugged him off, saying it was just in a transmuter’s nature to be a little bit manipulative. And being a transmuter herself, she should know, right? She didn’t ask what prompted the concern and Phinks didn’t volunteer the information, and that was that.

It was a rowdy Friday night at their new place when it happened. Many of the troupe members were several beers in and loudly playing a competitive game of cornhole. There were small beanbags strewn everywhere, and one ripped apart entirely by an angry Uvogin, who was losing by a pretty significant margin.

Phinks was sitting at the kitchen table with Feitan and the girls, playing Go Fish. He could tell Feitan was getting bored by the way he kept tapping his fingers and staring at him.

Finally Feitan asked him, “Did you ever decide who would win if you and I fought?”

“It didn’t really require that much thought, haha.”

Feitan laid his cards down on the table and gave him a devious little smirk. “Oh?”

“Well, yeah. The only thing you have on me is speed, and I’m not sure that’d be enough in a real fight.”

Feitan narrowed his eyes, still smiling.

Pakunoda, as if sensing the change in atmosphere somehow, said to the boys, “You know there’s no fighting allowed. Why don’t you arm wrestle to see who’s stronger?”

Phinks laughed loudly and slammed his elbow up onto the table, flexing his biceps, muscles popping. “Really? I wouldn’t wanna embarrass the poor kid, especially in front of two girls.”

But Feitan was already sliding his chair up directly across from Phinks at the table and sitting on his knees so he could reach the other’s arm.

Feitan’s hand was entirely dwarfed by Phinks’ when they gripped up. Phinks was still laughing and boasting about how strong he was and how it was dumb to even have to do this and truly, he wasn’t worried. A real fight was one thing, but arm wrestling? He was second in strength only to Uvogin, and it didn’t hurt his pride one bit to admit he’d never be _that_ strong. But just feeling the cold, tiny hand clasped in his gave him a surge of confidence that this would be a no-contest. He didn’t want to annihilate the kid or anything, so he thought maybe he’d pretend to be fighting hard and then just gradually bring him down. Yeah, that would probably be the best way to go about it.

Machi checked their hands to make sure no one was digging their fingernails in or doing anything to cheat, then backed off and counted down, “Three… two… one… Go!”

Feitan was off his seat in a split second, quicker than Phinks could even activate his muscles. In that space of time, literally between heartbeats, Feitan had pressed his lips to Phinks’. And it was like the clock stopped. Everything stopped. The shouting from the cornhole match faded away, and so did Machi and Pakunoda’s shocked but laughing faces. Everything just fell away and turned fuzzy and dream-like. Phinks’ ears were ringing.

Feitan’s lips were warm and soft and wet, and his eyes were shut. But his hand… was pressing down. Phinks stared at the table in disbelief. His arm was pressed flat, knuckles down against the wood.

Feitan pulled his mouth away with a tiny sucking sound and opened his eyes, pupils blown wide, the most smug smile ever on his face. “I win,” he said softly.

Phinks was burning up, his entire face and chest flushed bright red.

The girls were clapping their hands in delight. Everyone was laughing. Phinks, though, just stared at Feitan in shock.

 _I guess that answers that question_ , he thought to himself, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

The final straw happened only a few months after what he referred to as _the arm wrestling incident_. Chrollo had taken notice of Feitan’s penchant for pain and given him a special role in the group: interrogator. Chrollo had only been waiting to see what Feitan’s skills developed as, where the training took him. His abilities were special and terrifying and certainly something to be nurtured. That’s why when Phinks finally came to him with all those pesky concerns he’d accumulated over the years, Chrollo effectively shut him down.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We should be supportive of his growth. Or have you forgotten all the mishaps we worked through when you first developed your Ripper Cyclotron? You still don’t have the proper control over it, but it’s perfectly fine, isn’t it? No one has ever shamed you for being a little… heavy-handed with your abilities.”

Phinks’ mouth was hanging open in a desperate attempt to siphon in words. No, no, this wasn’t okay. This definitely wasn’t okay this time, and Chrollo didn’t _care_. He didn’t know what to say and there just seemed like so little room to argue. Chrollo wasn’t the sort of person to be argued with, anyway, so Phinks merely nodded his head and backed off.

But… but what he’d just witnessed, what he'd just survived, would haunt him for the rest of his life, he was absolutely sure. Feitan was _with a client_ as he liked to say. It just meant he was torturing some poor person. It was concerning enough when he did it for a job, but lately he was just doing it because he was bored. He called it training. Practice for the real thing. And it was definitely something Phinks had zero interest in ever witnessing.

 _Why_ he chose to do it in the garage was a mystery. If he had chosen anywhere else in the world, Phinks may have been spared the ordeal, but no. And all he had wanted was some damn fried rice from downtown. And all he’d been doing was grabbing his moped to go pick it up really fast. He didn’t even know anyone was in there until his ears pricked at the sound of heavy breathing.

He peeked around the side of Chrollo’s car. Over in the corner of the garage there was someone strapped to a wooden chair, their arms bound behind their back, legs tied tight to the legs of the chair. A gunny sack was over the person’s head. There was _so much blood, oh my god how is there so much blood_? Horrified, Phinks eyes took in everything at once, the whole picture. He felt it burning into his brain. The blood, the blood, the blood, Feitan on the bound person’s lap. Feitan not wearing any clothes. White skin smeared red. Feitan’s head thrown back in pleasure. Moving, panting, on the person’s lap. The sounds he was making. It was a full on assault of Phinks’ senses. The overpowering metallic scent of blood clawing its way up into his nose. He wanted to leave so badly, to run the hell out of there and never look back, never ever think about this ever again. But he was rooted to the spot. His fucking legs just wouldn’t _work goddamnit gotta get out of here right now right now right now_.

Feitan was moaning, his face pressed against the bound person’s neck, hips moving in an unmistakable rhythm. A sharp, unexpected scream, muffled by the gunny sack, made Phinks jump a foot in the air and nearly faint from the suddenness of it. Feitan had sunk his teeth into the person’s throat. It was exactly what Phinks needed to snap out of his trance and he spun around, tripping over his own clumsy feet in his haste to escape, falling on his face. His entire body felt numb, like pins and needles. He just laid there for a second, hating himself, hating the situation, just wanting some fucking chicken fried rice.

He knew he was there. He could feel him standing there. Right behind him. Phinks rested his forehead on the cold concrete floor. He could feel his nose bleeding from where he hadn’t been able to catch his fall properly and busted it on the ground. A small, desperate part of him had the sudden urge to cry for some reason. He didn’t want to deal with this.

“Phinks. What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he muttered against the floor.

He felt a hand grip his arm and give him a firm yank upward. _When did he get so strong_? Phinks got to his feet and tried to look anywhere except at the small blood-covered young man in front of him. Feitan had his head tilted to the side, regarding Phinks with hooded eyes, heavily dilated from the pleasure he had been taking.

“Leaving?” Feitan whispered, moving a little bit closer. “Why won’t you stay?”

“I… I…” Finally he looked down. It was the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. Feitan was entirely nude, smears of blood on his face, on his chest, on his thighs. His cock was hard and jutting out obscenely from between his legs. Phinks had never seen him like this. His mind was racing, traumatized brain trying to cling to that first night when he’d washed his hair and toweled him dry, how innocent it had been. How sweet and pure. _I want that memory, that’s the only memory I want. I don’t want this. Please don’t let me remember this_.

Feitan was staring into his eyes, and even that felt like a violation. “You want to stay, don’t you?” Tiny hands came to rest on his shoulders, ran tantalizingly down the length of his arms until they clasped with his own hands. Feitan was moving him, moving his hands toward him, onto… onto Feitan’s body. Wrapping his hands around his neck. “Touch me,” he breathed out, “It’s okay.”

Enraptured, unable to tear his eyes away from the black soul-sucking eyes of the man in front of him, he felt his thumbs caressing Feitan’s throat. Rubbing circles down into the dip of his clavicle. Feitan was practically purring, he could feel the vibrations as he stroked his throat. He realized far too late that he was moving backward, being pushed so softly, so gently that he didn’t notice it at all until his back collided with the wall. He jumped in surprise, blinking rapidly, trying to break the spell Feitan had cast on him.

But then Feitan hopped up, wrapping his legs around Phinks’ body and Phinks found himself instinctively reaching down to hold him, grabbing him under his thighs so he wouldn’t slide off. Feitan’s arms curled around his neck. He could feel the other’s erection pressing insistently against his stomach, and then… Feitan’s mouth was on his. He could only stand there stupidly, not offering anything in the way of reciprocation, and even less in the way of defense.

 _He tastes like blood_. Feitan was suckling at his bottom lip, nipping it sharply, then running his tongue along the wound. _I can’t… I can’t allow this. This is not okay. It’s not okay. I need to leave_. He opened his mouth to protest, to voice his desire to leave, but before he could get a single word out, Feitan’s tongue slid in. Wet, hot. He gasped out a breath, unable to stop the onslaught. Unable to stop the way his fingers clenched on Feitan’s thighs. A wave of warmth slammed into him, weakening his knees, dizzying his brain. And still Feitan’s tongue worked slickly against his own, sucking at him, biting at him.

Arousal, uninvited and unwanted and unacceptable, was coursing through his body. Heating his face. Lengthening his cock. Feitan was squirming in his arms, pressing against him more firmly, raking his sharp fingernails down his back. He could feel his shirt tearing. Could feel the cold of the wall now that he was touching it with his bare skin. _God… he feels so good. God, it’s been so long since… since…_ Since he had been with anyone. His body was buzzing with the pleasure of it, the feeling of holding someone in his arms, of… of touching… _but fuck, fuck no no no it’s Feitan, I can’t…_

Feitan bit his neck suddenly, hard, and he cried out in surprise as his knees buckled. They slid down to the floor with Feitan straddling his lap, pressing firmly against Phinks’ cock that was now, mortifyingly, fully erect.

“I knew it,” Feitan purred, rubbing against his lap enticingly. “I knew you wanted me. You can have me, you know. You… you could have had me whenever you wanted.” He leaned forward and licked at the blood drying beneath Phinks’ nose from where he’d busted it earlier. His hips continued to move, lips moving to Phinks’ ear. His voice was so low, so needy, so desperate. “I always wanted you. From, from the very start.”

Phinks couldn’t get any part of himself to react appropriately, least of all his voice. He could only focus on trying to breathe, but even that was coming out in heavy, labored gasps. Feitan was biting his earlobe now, dipping his tongue inside his ear and he felt every little breath, heard every little sound of pleasure. He was so dizzy, head spinning, body feeling as though it was slowly being engulfed in flames.

Feitan was moving now, making his way down Phinks’ body way too quickly for Phinks to figure out how to push him off. Now was the chance. Now was the opportunity. But Feitan had hooked his fingers in Phinks’ sweatpants and pulled them down so that his cock was freed. It stood up embarrassingly hard, pleading for everything that Phinks couldn’t manage to voice.

His mouth was open, ready to say _stop it, stop it, this isn’t right and you know it. We’re friends. We’re best friends. I practically raised you! You’re my brother. You’re my little brother, so please don’t_ \-- but Feitan was sucking his cock now. His eyes were wide open and staring as his friend wrapped his lips around him. It was like watching a fucking car accident. A tragedy. A disaster. Completely unable to look away, unable to stop it, unable to do anything except stare helplessly as he watched his cock disappear into Feitan’s mouth. Sink down into his throat. _How is he… how does he know how to… oh my god…_

His head fell back to the floor in defeat. Feitan’s mouth was so hot and so wet and he was sucking him, running his tongue along the underside of his cock as his head bobbed up and down. The sounds were obscene. Slurping, sucking, and little sounds of Feitan’s own pleasure escaping from his mouth. Spit was leaking around the corners of his mouth, Phinks could feel it dripping down onto his balls. He crossed his arms over his face to take away the urge to bury his hands in his friend’s hair and fuck roughly into his face like every nerve in his body was screaming for him to do.

He was so close. So close. He could feel his groin tightening, toes curling against the floor. The muscles in his thighs were twitching. Feitan noticed and took a breath, then sunk his mouth all the way down, nose pressed against Phinks’ pubic hair, tongue working the base of his cock. Phinks was _in his throat, fuck fuck I’m in his throat, oh my god it’s so tight so tight so hot_ and when Feitan swallowed, the way his throat worked and tightened and gripped, Phinks couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop it anymore. He cried out harshly, biting onto his own hand to muffle the sound, and felt himself coming. Coming down Feitan’s throat. He could feel his cock pulsing against the tight walls wrapped around him, _fuck it’s good, god it’s good, Jesus Christ_! He was trembling with the force of his orgasm, light-headed, body slack. It felt good, but he also felt like he wanted to die. He shouldn’t have let this happen. How could he have let this happen?

Feitan pulled away from him, letting the softening cock fall from his mouth. He swallowed it, Phinks realized with a shudder, feeling his dick twitch at the thought despite himself. Feitan crawled back up to straddle him again and grabbed for his hands. Phinks let him, not having it in him to put up any kind of fight. He let Feitan wrap his hand around himself, and it was so lewd, so wrong to see the difference in size between them. _He’s so small, he looks like a little kid. What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck am I doing_? But small as he was, Feitan was almost twenty years old now. Small as he was, his body was toned and lean, muscles tight, skin soft and smooth and flawless. Phinks was staring down where he was stroking his friend’s cock, his hand looking huge. His other hand was gripping Feitan’s hip, squeezing it. Feitan moved that hand up to his throat now and closed it around.

“Will you, will you choke me?” he gasped out, both hands now wrapping around the one Phinks was using to jerk him off. He was using Phinks’ hand to fuck himself. Phinks felt like he wasn’t participating at all at this point, but he couldn’t pull himself away. He couldn’t do anything except tighten his hand around Feitan’s throat, feeling the small body on top of him tense up. Feitan moaned and he tightened his hand even more. Feitan’s hips were moving faster now, he was panting hard, eyes closed, head tilting back.

“Phinks,” he whispered. “Don’t… don’t stop. Please. Harder.” Feitan was trembling hard and Phinks could feel his throat working to swallow spit. Instinctively he clenched his hand, a surge of power rushing through him and pooling low in his gut. Something… something was triggered in him all of a sudden. Something about those tiny gasps, something about those tiny hands desperately gripping his own, at the feel of Feitan’s cock sliding against his palm. Something about all those years of accumulated want and need and want and need and _need_ and _NEED._

He sat up and flipped them over so that Feitan was beneath him, and Feitan was staring up at him with wide startled eyes that were glazed over in lust. He felt like he could do anything he wanted to him right now. Fucking anything. Feitan was so open and trusting and just there, just wide open, accepting of anything he wanted to do. Phinks was breathing hard, staring into Feitan’s face like he didn’t really recognize him. He hardly recognized himself. He pressed down hard against the soft, pale throat and Feitan was coughing now, eyes filling with tears but hips arching off the floor.

“You… you wanted this,” Phinks growled, voice rough and raw and so unlike him. “You fucking wanted this, you sick little fucker.”

Feitan was clawing at the hand around his throat now, his legs thrashing. “What, are you scared? You don’t like it anymore?” Phinks was practically snarling. He pressed his lips roughly against Feitan’s, kissing him hard, sucking his gasping breaths into his mouth. _I could do anything I wanted to him._

He backed up a little and loosened his grip enough for Feitan to pull in a gulp of air, and then Feitan was crying out, shrill and sharp and devastatingly broken, body shaking and shuddering and Phinks felt his cock pumping come into his hand. Feitan was crying. And it was that quiet sound that brought him crashing back down to earth, snapping him out of what had to have been a fucking psychotic episode, or something. It wasn’t… it wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

He staggered to his feet, yanking his pants up, looking at his friend who was still spread out on the cold concrete floor looking so tiny, so vulnerable. His instinct was to run. He really didn’t want to be here anymore, hadn’t ever really wanted to be here at all. Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could outrun the consequences of what they had just done. He stumbled backward, managed to stay on his feet this time, then hurriedly walked his moped out the side door and away from everything that had gone wrong in the garage that night.

_I'm your friend_  
_And I'm your shade_  
_Do what you want_  
_Just remember it's for love_

_I'm your wall_  
_And I'm your rock_  
_Don't run away_  
_Don't forget it's only love_

_I'm your chain_  
_And I'm your lock_  
_There's no escape_  
_Just as long as I say... love_  
-"My Pain," by Slipknot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a [link](https://rouvere.tumblr.com/post/129683825899/and-no-rematches-commission-for) to the drawing that inspired the arm wrestling scene. ♥


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us not forget that Chrollo is an angel. <3

The good news was that Phinks was a master at ignoring things. At pushing things aside. At looking the other way. He had nearly a decade of practice under his belt and he definitely considered himself a professional at this point. So moving past what happened in the garage was probably a lot easier for him than it had any right to be. He went out, feeling the cool night air whip his hair around as he sped into town. He ate his chicken fried rice and he felt much better. It was easy to forget the traumatic experience from earlier when he had things to distract himself with.

He got back home late-late. Around four in the morning and everything was quiet. He went to take a shower and was pretty startled at how rough he looked. He had completely forgotten to clean up his bloody nose from earlier-

 _Oof_. There it was. The sucker punch to the gut. The remembering. The fucking remembering.

He scrubbed his face clean and then sat in the bottom of the bathtub, just letting the scalding water run over his head and his back. Now that he found himself thinking about it, he started to feel a little bit pissed off. Feitan’s words echoed in his mind. ‘ _You could have had me whenever you wanted. I always wanted you, from the very start_.’ What the fuck did that even mean? Had Feitan been planning something like this all along?

But no, that was impossible. It was just an unlucky coincidence that Phinks had gone to the garage on the one night Feitan just so happened to be… also occupying it. There’s no way he could have planned something so accidental, right? But what about everything else? What about the whole sharing a bed thing? Phinks had specifically fucking meditated about keeping his body calm when they slept together, just so he could avoid any embarrassing and completely accidental boners. He’d gone out of his way to accommodate Feitan and to not make him uncomfortable or creeped out in any way and this… this was how he was repaid? By being told that it was all for nothing, that the little shit had wanted more the entire time?

He knew he cared strongly for Feitan, of that there was no question, there was no doubt. It had always been that way, literally from day one. He took care of him, brushed his hair, took him shopping, he taught him how to cook and helped him with his training. They watched movies together, played games together, went on missions together. And they always had each other’s backs when the going got tough, when things went wrong. He protected Feitan and bandaged his wounds and set his broken bones. He sat there in the tub, poring over the past, overwhelmed with all the things they’d shared. He loved his other friends, too, sure, but he knew in his heart and soul that what he and Feitan shared went far further than what he had with any of the others.

He knew he shouldn’t have left him the way he did. That was pretty fucked up, but to be fair, he had been in over his head from the start. Stuff like that, feelings and stuff, that was way out of his element. He was big and dumb and acted almost one hundred percent off instinct. That’s all it had been earlier. Instinct. The innate desire to watch something beautiful - and he had, he had watched Feitan fucking himself on that guy and he would have continued to watch if that scream hadn’t snapped him out of it. His body knew what it wanted, and he had wanted to _see_. And when Feitan was kissing him, when Feitan was sucking his dick, when Feitan was begging him to wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze… it was easy. It was fucking easy because it felt good and it’s what his body knew it wanted. His body had wanted it for years. He could have auto-piloted through the entire thing because his body knew it knew it knew.

God, it was like someone flipped a switch inside his brain. He had been so stupid. For years. All the little hints he missed. All the big hints he ignored. Because that was the name of the game with him: overlook things Feitan does. He’s little and sweet and misunderstood. He’s been neglected, he’s been abused, it’s not his fault. Just protect him. Just love him. Just love him. _I love him. I do_.

 _Fuck. I do love him_.

He supposed he always had, in one way or another. You can only spend so much time with someone, being everything to them and with them being everything to you… before at some point… feelings happen. Right? He was dreading the conversation so much. He wanted to stay in the shower forever and never face Feitan again. Ever. He didn’t even know where Feitan was right now, if he had left, if he was with someone else. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t slept together. Had they ever not slept together?

The water was cold now. He turned it off and continued to sit there a while longer. He was giving some serious consideration to just sleeping in the bathtub, but the curiosity of what Feitan was doing was too much for him to let it go. He had to know. Was he waiting for him? Had he gone out to drown his sorrows with some stranger? Phinks’ heart clenched. Was he being comforted by one of the other troupe members? He was surprised by just how much that thought bothered him.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and approached his bedroom door, feet heavy with trepidation. He stood there outside the door, listening for any sounds coming from the other side, but there was nothing. Minutes ticked by. He couldn’t really avoid it anymore, so he turned the handle, inwardly sighing in relief to find that it wasn’t locked.

But Feitan was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t there.

Part of him wanted to feel relieved that he didn’t have to worry about the talk now. There would be no awkward confrontations, no funny feelings, no possibility of tears on either side and no fighting and no weird confessions of love. All these scenarios had run through his head several times over and there was truthfully some relief that none of it would have to happen now. Because Feitan wasn’t there. He took a great big deep breath and let it out slowly, then tugged on some sweatpants that had been laying on the floor.

Best not to worry too much about it. Feitan was a big boy and whatever he was doing, out there alone in the world without Phinks to look after him or protect him or possibly rescue him because he got in over his head in a fight- Phinks frowned deeply- whatever he was doing, Phinks was sure… it was probably fine.

He laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Then he stared at the wall. He didn’t sleep, not one minute.

It was a good thing that Chrollo was an early riser because it meant he and Phinks were the only ones at the kitchen table at six o’clock. Phinks was already two cups of coffee in but his hands were shaking for an entirely different reason. He ran a hand through his unkempt blond hair and gave his boss a strained smile that was positively pathetic in its attempt to mimic any sort of happiness at all.

Chrollo sat next to him and waited patiently.

Phinks downed another cup, burning his tongue, and held his head in his hands.

“Phinks.”

Startled, he jerked his head up to look at his boss.

Chrollo was staring at him calmly, nonjudgmentally. Like he always did. Like he was an open journal you could speak freely into with no fear of any sort of consequence. Phinks had always loved that about him.

“I think I had a fight with Feitan.”

 _A fight? Is that what we’re calling it now_? He really wasn’t sure he wanted to divulge all the messier details. It didn’t really matter that much anyway, he was pretty sure. It all amounted to essentially the same thing as a fight: hurt and anger and sadness and now Feitan was gone and it was his fault.

“Oh? What about?” Chrollo asked conversationally, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

Phinks shifted in his seat. It had been a really long time since he’d talked to Chrollo like this, and somehow he always felt the same. Like he was transported back in time to where he was a little boy and Chrollo was _everything_. Chrollo was smart and kind and funny and he had the answer to every question. It was just getting over that initial embarrassment, taking that final step off the edge of the cliff and plummeting toward what would assuredly be the perfect solution to every single one of his problems. Chrollo was just like that. He knew everything.

So Phinks told him _everything_. And he started from the beginning. Told him about that stupid fucking kiss where Feitan had embarrassed him in front of everyone and also taken his spot on the arm wrestling leadership board. He hadn’t bothered with a rematch, letting Feitan keep the victory over him. He told him about the fear of being seen as a pervert, the fear of taking advantage of someone so much younger than him. Of just wanting to be a good person, a good older brother type figure, but somehow it had gone terribly, terribly, irreparably _wrong_. When he finally finished with the story of last night and how he had shamefully left Feitan laying on the garage floor, they both sat in silence. For such a long while that he felt a twinge of dread that maybe this was it, Chrollo was kicking him out of the group. He’d gone too far this time.

“Boss, I-” he started fearfully, hoping to somehow plead his case, but Chrollo held up an elegant hand for him to stop speaking, so he clamped his mouth shut.

“You are a good man, Phinks. I don’t believe you’ve been told that enough, so I’m telling you now, and I want you to believe it. Sincerely.” Chrollo smiled at him kindly and ran his fingertips over the back of Phinks’ hand in a comforting manner. “I knew I was right to leave Feitan in your care. You were every bit the guardian and mentor I expected you to be. But, you must understand, things do change.”

Chrollo blinked passively, ignoring the pained expression on the blond’s face. “And things have changed. Don’t look so upset; it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” As Phinks inhaled to speak, Chrollo raised his hand again, “Don’t interrupt me. While you were out on the town last night, can you imagine what I was doing? And where Feitan ended up?”

Phinks shook his head no.

“He came to my room.”

Oh. Oh no. No no no.

“His story is much different than yours. Essentially the opposite, as a matter of fact. Because while you were on your best behavior and adhering to a strict moral code, Feitan was doing everything in his power to break through your defenses. And it seems he finally succeeded in breaking through, did he not?”

Phinks had covered his face with his hands, feeling miserable, not even really listening to what Chrollo was saying anymore. He was hyper-fixated on _he came to my room. What I was doing. Where Feitan ended up_. He should have probably expected as much. Feitan was Chrollo’s to take, after all. He was the one who had chosen him in the first place. It had been foolish to ever think… to ever think Chrollo would not take something he wanted. He got everything he wanted, every single time.

“I didn’t touch him, Phinks. If that’s what you’re so upset about. His heart doesn’t belong to me and I’m fairly certain you already knew that.”

A small twinge of hope fought for space in his chest. He peeked at Chrollo through his fingers and was met with that same look, mild and unbothered, possibly even slightly bored.

“Is he, is he okay?” asked Phinks nervously, suddenly feeling guilty for ever having suspected Chrollo of messing around with Feitan. Chrollo was way too good to do something like that, to take advantage of someone in emotional distress. Something like that would be way too easy and Chrollo never liked easy.

Chrollo smiled at him now and Phinks couldn’t shake the uneasy thought that his boss could somehow, someway read his mind. He just looked so _knowing_ all the time.

“I think he will be just fine. I gave him something to help him sleep. He was very upset, you know.”

“He was?”

“Mm.” Chrollo bit into a croissant and regarded his friend thoughtfully for a moment as he chewed. “Quite bruised, as well.”

Phinks turned a deep red and choked on his own spit.

Chrollo pretended not to notice as he continued, “He has some interesting tastes, though. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.”

Suddenly assaulted with the memory of Feitan grinding himself against the bound guy’s lap, Phinks blushed further. “I don’t know how to… to deal with him. It seems so wrong to me! The-the way he wants to be…” he abruptly stopped talking, horrified that he had said as much as he had. This wasn’t particularly something he wanted to talk with his boss about, not _this_.

But Chrollo just shrugged. “I don’t see the problem, personally. It’s just a preference he has. You should be thankful that he fancies the receiving end.” A small smile pulled at the perfect lips that were still dusted with a bit of powdered sugar. “Imagine how different this conversation would have gone if he’d decided to tie you up.”

“Pfft, he couldn’t!” laughed Phinks, but his brain was nervously tossing the thought around.

“Mm, I wouldn’t be quite so sure. Feitan is much stronger than he might appear. And he has ways of getting what he wants, now doesn’t he?”

“Does, uh, does he?”

Chrollo just smirked knowingly at him and shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose that’s a question left for you to answer, hm?” He stood from the table, clearing the dishes to the sink and said, “This has been lovely, Phinks, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have an appointment.”

“Yeah… yeah of course. Thanks, boss. For uh, for everything. And for taking care of him,” Phinks was bashfully rubbing the back of his neck, “when I couldn’t take care of him.”

As Chrollo was walking out the door, his voice carried back to Phinks, smile evident in his tone, “Oh, I have no doubt you’ll take good care of him.”

Phinks was left blushing furiously at the kitchen table, absolutely exhausted and jittery from the overabundance of caffeine in his system.


End file.
